


Hope Comes Down on F.R.I.D.A.Y.

by tensblake



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: African-American reader, Alpha Steve Rogers, Autumn, Black Reader, Black!Reader - Freeform, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Daddy Kink, Dark Steve, Dark Steve Rogers, Dark!Steve, Dom Steve Rogers, Edging, F/F, F/M, Female Character of Color, Forced Orgasm, Kidnapping, Leaf peepin’, OOC steve, Pining, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Sex, Possessive Steve, Rape/Non-con Elements, Submissive Character, Top Steve Rogers, With A Twist, fall - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-16 13:10:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21036758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tensblake/pseuds/tensblake
Summary: Captain Steven Grant Rogers is bonkers. He kidnapped you in a jealous rage after seeing the interest his best friend, Bucky Barnes, expressed for you.It's been months since you've seen anyone but Steve and you know the longer you're at the remote farmhouse he’s trapped you in, the less likely it will be that you'll ever leave.Your sole hope is the only one that knows you're in Steve's clutches – the A.I. he depends on to keep you captive.





	Hope Comes Down on F.R.I.D.A.Y.

**Author's Note:**

> At the moment, this is a drabble. I just had to get it out of my system after reading [Die Besessenheit](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19830649/) by [@sophiria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophiria/pseuds/sophiria) and [@uglywombat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/uglywombat/pseuds/uglywombat). This is totally inspired by that wild ride and I can't wait until it finishes. 
> 
> In the meantime, I can write my little take on the dark side. Thanks for reading and providing feedback.
> 
> omigodwhatamidoing...

The care Steve lavished upon you as constantly as the many forms of torture he put you through still amazed you. He sat above you, legs spread wide in one of the plush armchairs of the stately sunroom of the large renovated farmhouse were he held you captive. It was a solid nineteenth century home near the Atlantic coast on a property covered in thick woods. Aside from that, you had no idea where you were. 

Sometimes, when he had you like this, kneeling on the floor facing him, ass burning from a sound spanking, and eyes teary, trying to avoid his gaze, you had a slight urge to chuckle. Ironically, you had chosen the bright quilted satin that covered the armchair he sat in. Earlier this year Pepper Potts told you that Captain America wanted designs for a country home that he and the former Winter Soldier would eventually build. Who knew that you would end up a prisoner there? 

Imagine your surprise when you woke up one morning to find that not only had the house been built, but it had been arranged and furnished to the exact specifications of the final proposal you had submitted to Steve a few weeks before. What was more, you were groggy, naked, and trapped in that house. It had been months since that nightmarish morning. 

As Steve parted and brushed your hair, you sang a new made-up song in your head about how it was the third day of the third week of the fourth month you’d been held in captivity. You tried to concentrate on remembering all the characteristics of the armchair’s luxury fabric, fighting not to give in to the soothing touch of Steve’s fingers running over the parts he combed down your scalp. He must have done some serious recon to get this so right. The scalp oil was definitely the same one you used to use every other day. Steve knew to massage the shea butter mixture into your damp hair before attempting to brush through any tangles. How many instructional videos must he have watched before becoming confident enough to do this so expertly? 

You were sleepy and you struggled to remain kneeling before Steve in this awkward position. It hurt to have your ass touch anything–even the backs of your calves. At times you were forced to rest your forearms on Steve’s thick thighs. More than once your cheek rested on his quad as he manipulated your head to style the hair on the side. You were keenly aware of his tented crotch mere inches from your mouth and gaze. Through the scents of the mango and lime hair oil and rich shea butter you could still smell _him_. Steve. His unique fragrance. You salivated and licked your lips. Damn him, you wanted him in your mouth. 

“Soon, babygirl,” Steve’s deep, quiet murmur broke through your traitorous thoughts. His fingers took a break from your hair to swipe away a single tear and caress your pouty lips.

Your tears had dried by the time he finished about two hours later. Your shiny hair hung from your head in tight, two-strand twists. Its sheen matched that of your skin, bare save for the sheer white panties he’d dressed you in and smooth with the lotion he’d massaged into your every nook and cranny after a sponge bath. Steve tapped your shoulder, your cue to sit up on your knees before him as he stood directly in front of you. Face to face with the bulge in his tight blue jeans, you acknowledged your arousal and fought an internal battle to tamp it down. 

_ Versailles. Velvet. Made in the Netherlands. Crease-resistant finish. High durability. Compliant with the requirements of the New California Technical Bulleti– _

“Look at me,” Steve commanded above you. You complied immediately. His bulging arms were crossed over his wide torso, straining against the long sleeved fitted athletic shirt that encased them. He was Michaelangelo’s David above you, hard unyielding marble, pink lips pressed tight in scrutiny, surrounded by his full, soft beard. You audibly gulped and he smirked. Whatever resistance you had was set aside. You wanted him to touch you again.

Despite the fire that roared behind him in the fireplace, your dark nipples stood at attention. That display wasn’t enough for Steve. He circled you, caressing your flaming cheeks, running his fingers over your collar bone, and finally grabbing your neck below the now delicate kitchen of your hair. You winced but you kept your eyes open, straining to keep him in your sights.

“Good girl,” he praised you quietly and kissed your forehead. Coming back around to face you directly, he took your chin in his hand, and used his thumb to play with your lips. His other hand carded through your many twists, examining his handiwork with a sigh. “Babygirl, I told you to let me know if there was anything else I need to help take care of you. Your hair could have really started breaking without this stuff. You should have seen me this week. I was at my wit’s end watching protective hair styling videos. There was a lot of ground to cover, but I learned quite a bit– did it for you.”

You bristled inwardly, schooling your features to remain attentive and neutral. Steve didn’t watch hours of black hair videos for you. He did it for himself. If you looked good, he could applaud himself for taking such good care of you. You flinched involuntarily when his grip on your chin tightened.

“Tonight after dinner we’re going to draw up a new list of all your favorite and necessary hair care and hygiene products. Pepper’s suggestions weren’t doing the trick. Figures though; you’re special. My special girl needs special things.”

Your heart bloomed with hope and you sucked in a breath through your nose. Maybe if Pepper was advising Steve on health and beauty products, she’d somehow connect it with your recent disappearance from her life.

“Don’t worry, sweetie,” Steve cooed and bent down to peck your lips with his, “I’m not going to let Pepper or anyone else come between us. F.R.I.D.A.Y. has put up plenty of photos and portfolio entries of you on your new exciting projects. She’s even taken a few phone calls for you. Our time here is special. We’re laying the foundation for the rest of our lives together.”

You shuddered and nodded. It was stupid to hope outwardly like that. It would only make Steve suspicious and it would take your mind off of your number one objective– surviving. 

“You are always to tell me if there’s something I can bring out here to take better care of you. Understood?”

You nodded again, this time with more vigor. It seemed to please him. Steve’s sternness turned into an easy smile of admiration. His mood swings were hard to keep up with, but by now they kept you alert and almost always willing to appease him. 

“Good girl. Your hair is going to look so beautiful splayed all over the pillow when I take you tonight. It’ll be even better tomorrow when I take these down –all bouncy and voluminous– just for me...now, why did I have to put you away, babygirl?”

_ Put you away _ . It was a simple term for a monstrous punishment. For an entire week he’d locked you away in what you called the Gray Room. The room was clearly made with captivity in mind. Springy, pliant gray walls, soft gray carpet, big gray pillow. The only things that weren’t gray were the minuscule porcelain sink and toilet in one of the corners and the translucent skylight some twenty feet above. The solitary was excruciating. You’d thought your previous three day stints were bad, but this time he’d had you begging to get out by the fourth day. As depression weighed on you, you contemplated going full Bobby Sands, but decided your mind wouldn’t survive whatever punishment Steve served for such behavior. You resolved to sleep as much as possible until he decided it was appropriate for you to come out. 

Steve didn't speak to you the entire time, even when he dropped off your paltry meals. You were so tired and lonely by the time he’d released you earlier today that you’d nearly welcomed the spanking he immediately doled out upon pulling you from your confined quarters. You wept blubbery tears as he carried you up the stairs to a warm scented bath. Your bellows continued as he slowly removed your smelly cotton shift. It had been your only shelter from the air conditioning that blasted into the Gray Room. 

You settled into hiccups as he gently scrubbed your body and then washed your hair in four parted sections. Steve’s ministrations and whispered words of comfort and praise soothed you. Lord help you, you hadn’t cared that it was him. You were thankful when he patted you dry with the gigantic fluffy white towel embroidered with your name. His hands gently massaging the buttery lotion into your skin were everything. You savored the way his fingertips slid up your legs to fit the provocatively short boy cut panties on your hips. When he led you to the sunroom to twist your hair, you couldn’t tell if the tears that remained were thankful or resentful– probably both. 

“Focus, babygirl,” Steve said sharply, “I know you’re tired and I know it’s been a lot. It’s been a lot on me, too. It’s important that we go over this.”

“I– I…” you stuttered. Between crying, not speaking for three days, and screaming for freedom four days straight before that, your voice was nearly shot. 

“Here.” Steve let go of you briefly to retrieve a glass of water from a side table. He gingerly held it to your lips and watched intently as you gulped it down in one go. Whether his staring was in caution or lust, you couldn’t say. 

“Good girl. Now tell me,” he whispered and rose above you again.

“I misbehaved terribly,” you whimpered, “I yelled at you and told you that you were being unfair. You didn’t deserve that.”

“That’s right, but I want you to be more specific. It’s okay. You can repeat it– just this once.”

“I said it was wrong that you wouldn’t let me walk the grounds that day even though I’d been so well behaved. I said the threat level didn’t matter and that you were being psychotic and cruel and that this was all a farce and–”

Your voice caught in your throat. What you had said next was what really pissed him off. You didn’t want to run the risk of going down that road again, but it seemed like he wasn’t going to give you much of a choice. 

“Go on.”

“I said that no one would ever love you. They would only love the shell that Erskine gave you when he pumped the serum into you. Steve, it was so wrong, and I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it. I just wanted–”

“Shhhh, babygirl. I know.” Now tears were falling down Steve’s cheeks. “I know you didn’t mean it. You were lashing out because you didn’t understand that I was denying you some hard-earned privileges in order to protect you. I will never take your safety for granted. Do you hear me? You may not always understand my rules or what I ask of you, but it’s important that you always obey me and always trust me. Now, why is that?”

His hand was gripping your chin again, tilting your gaze it to stare into his large blue eyes. You paused. You closed and opened your eyes before telling him what he wanted to hear. 

“Because Zaddy knows best.”

“Yes,” he rumbled, “Now suck.”

You took his thumb in your mouth in an instant. Your eyes never moved from his. Steve bit his lips and your core grasped at nothing in want. 

“I can smell you, babygirl. Spread those knees. Let Zaddy see how wet you are.”

You obeyed, leaning back to give him a view of the fluid soaked fabric that stretched over your bare pussy lips. Ignoring your tender ass, part of you preened at Steve’s amazement. He was the most powerful man in the known universe and it was your body,  _ you _ , that set him aflame. 

Steve lowered himself to the padded Turkish kilim to lay beneath you and set your pussy against his mouth. You wailed in delight as he sucked your juices, willing you to grind against him with his large hands firmly in control of your hips. 

“Always so wet for Zaddy, aren’t you, babygirl?”

“Yes, Zaddy!” you proclaimed, reaching back to paw at the still growing bulge in his jeans. 

“Oh, no you don’t.” Steve maneuvered you back onto your knees. He flicked his wrist and in a flash his cock was free, red and proud before you. His hands halted your shoulders before you could move forward. “Kiss me first. Worship me. Show me how much you missed me.”

You leisurely rubbed his hardness across your face with your hands resting against his thighs or his ass, just the way he preferred. You luxuriated in his smell and planted sweet kisses along his surging veins. Eventually your tongue entered the mix and Steve broke his own edict by closing his eyes and groaning as you continued. 

This was your favorite part. You could close your eyes, too, and imagine you were somewhere else with someone else. Like most nights, you imagined Bucky above you. 

Sweet Bucky. You’d loved his company as you’d worked with him and Steve on the designs for the farmhouse. His knowledge and appreciation of nature was beyond anything you’d ever seen in a client. Bucky named each plant in the patterns you’d presented. He pointed out their natural relationships and in some cases, their historical significance. He explained everything with humility and took a genuine interest in anything you brought before him. You also thought he was the hottest man you’d ever had the fortune to lay eyes on. Bucky was a marvel. 

You thought you had blown it when you kissed his cheek during a trip to a textiles market. It was the most unprofessional thing you’d ever done. You’d barely had a chance to chastise yourself for it before he took you into his arms and planted a desperate kiss on you. You’d danced around one another awkwardly for two weeks before deciding to go on a date as soon as you turned in your final designs. 

The date would never come though. The night after you dropped the final design package at the Avenger’s offices Steve had taken you to this maximum security country idyll. You spent your days hiking the grounds as far as Steve would permit, reading the books he approved of, cleaning the modern farmhouse you’d ornately designed, and preparing meals when you wanted a taste of home. Your nights were spent trying to satiate Steve’s ravenous sexual appetite or tossing and turning when he wasn’t there. 

Steve had programmed F.R.I.D.A.Y. to watch your every movement. You weren’t allowed to touch yourself when he was away. That didn’t keep him from playing with your pussy though. F.R.I.D.A.Y. monitored your vitals as well as your arousal at all times. Whenever you calmed down, she ramped up the buzz of the bullet Steve required you to insert in his absence. By the end of the first month you were a sleepless, horny mess, yearning for orgasm. You were craven for Steve’s touch and happily begged him to fuck you and finish you off. 

That was back when Steve still let you shut your eyes when he took you; it was before he’d figured out that you were imagining that you were not underneath him, calling out the wicked nickname to the Bucky you conjured up behind your eyelids. You wondered if Bucky ever thought of you this way or if he was mad that you had up and left after committing to spending time with him. You wondered if F.R.I.D.A.Y. had impersonated you to cut off things with him and if he had seen right through it. You’d given up hope on that about two months in and settled for dreams of submitting to him instead of Steve.

The first time you’d begged  _ Oh, please, Zaddy _ aloud, Steve came automatically and roughly, bruising your hips as he roared and gushed inside you. You had cursed yourself for being so free with your fantasies, but you came to accept it when you realized how much harder you came. The dynamic was just that– a dynamic. As far as you were concerned, it was your right to enjoy every forced orgasm that psychopath rang from you as much as possible. 

“Babygirl, get ready.” Steve’s strained voice above you was a hateful reminder that he wasn’t the man you wanted to do this to. You redoubled your efforts when he descended into grunts again. You were dripping now, the panties saturated since they left Steve’s mouth. You breathed through your nose to take more of his heady, earthy aroma. You felt incredibly needy as the fingers of one of his hands moved over your scalp and the other guided your mouth back and forth on his cock. 

When the first of his semen hit your throat you remembered to look up at him. His lidded eyes regarded you with wonder as you swirled splash after splash around his still hard cock. Not a drop fell from your lips as you continued suckle him after swallowing. Your grip on his ass was hungry and your growing mewls initiated aftershocks that shook his entire body. 

“I know, I know, babygirl. Zaddy will give you what you need.” Steve bend down to kiss you sloppily. You wrapped yourself around him and he took the stairs in three leaps, depositing you on the king-size bed of the master bedroom in record time. In four beats he was inside you, his clothes and your panties in shreds on the floor as he fucked you at a frenzied, brutal pace. 

You rarely came from vaginal penetration only. A week of denial, a spanking, languid bathing and care, a little pussy licking, and a hot blow job seemed to be the proper catalyst for such an event. After about thirty seconds of Steve’s drilling and grinding you came– _ hard _ . 

Somewhere, in the distance, outside of your euphoria, you thought you could hear fluid splatting onto Steve’s crotch and chest. His shouts confirmed it for you. 

“Aww, babygirl, yes! You know Zaddy loves it when you get your slick all over him! Making a mess aren’t you? Zaddy’s girl is making a big sloppy mess all over Zaddy’s cock.” 

Steve didn’t let up. He jacked it back into you, an indecent sound accompanying each of his thrusts. He kept it up until your back arched and snapped like a twig. Your body shook violently after you cried silently into the thick, lust laden air.

The next two hours were spent orgasming on your back, or on your side, or your on hands and knees. When you needed a break, Steve simply moved in and out of you at a snail’s pace or licked at you tenderly. You thought it was during one of these periods of respite that you finally passed out. 

The sun was down when you woke alone several hours later. Your body ached and you were covered in bruises from Steve’s mouth, teeth, and fingertips. A shower soothed some of your stiffness, but it was still a chore to put on one of the longer silk nightgowns he had provided. While you dressed, you noticed a note written in Steve’s scrawl laying atop the chest of drawers. 

_ It’s a shame I’ve been called away just after we were finally able to reunite. I should be home in no more than two days. Please try to relax and enjoy the autumn leaves while I’m gone and be careful on the trail. I know you’re a die hard city girl, but I’ve seen the way you’ve really taken to nature since we came here. I cleared away some rocks this week, however, if it rains, don’t go hiking unless Friday deems the trail safe.  _

_ Remember that I love you with all my heart. I know that incredible brain of yours is probably still stewing and mad about the discipline, but try to remember that it will only help us get to our bright future. Be a good girl for me while I’m gone and I’ll reward you so well.  _

_ Miss you already,  _

_ Steve _

You carefully folded the note and placed it in an ornate malachite box with the other notes and letters Steve had written you over the last few months. You laid down on cooler sheets on the other side of the bed and laughed into your folded arms.  _ Really taken to nature? _ Yeah fucking right. You enjoyed the outdoors as much as the next guy, but you weren’t walking around the property for the lovely views. You were trying to find places where Steve’s gaze couldn’t reach you. You were sure on some level he realized that. His attempt to mask it was either a poor attempt to trick you or more psychotic denial. It was most likely the latter. 

Every time Steve left for more than a day, you finished your chores as quickly as possible and marched away from the house as far as you could manage before giving yourself enough time to be back at the house by sundown. You chose a different direction each time, but no matter how far out you got, F.R.I.D.A.Y. would always answer you when you called out to her. Her disembodied voice was especially eerie in the woods. At first you thought it was in your head and that Steve had planted some kind of receiver in you. He had put a device in your left forearm. You could feel it if you pressed hard enough. It had taken a couple of tests of ingenuity to figure out that there were devices planted all over the property that carried her voice to you, listened in on you, and watched you. You had yet to find one, but you knew they were there. 

The test had required still water. You dammed up the thinnest part of the creek on the property and made a convex cone of leaves and sticks that reflected back onto the water. You waited for the water to become absolutely still. Even then, you waited. You pretended to be engrossed in a book for a half hour or so and even skipped rocks for a minute. You knew you’d only have one shot. Any repeated tests would prompt suspicion from Steve. You laid down by the still water, eyes trained on the surface, and called out quietly to F.R.I.D.A.Y.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., do you think any beavers would come and live in this dam I’ve built?”

“No, ma’am. I highly doubt it,” she replied with certainty. To your delight, the surface of the water rippled as she spoke. You’d confirmed your hypothesis. Whether the devices were above ground or below ground, F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice was being amplified by something outside of your head. It was victory and a relief and you masked you feat as something else entirely. 

“Does that mean we’re in a place without beavers!?” you asked triumphantly. 

“It means that no unauthorized personnel or wildlife can trespass this property. Captain Rogers is doing everything in his power to keep you happy and safe,” she’d answered with mirth in her voice. 

Safe. It was an obnoxious theme of your captivity. So much had been done to you in the name of safety. 

It was F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice that brought you out of your musings. “Ma’am Captain Rogers has instructed that you insert your bullet while he’s gone, excluding trips to the bathroom, of course.” 

You’d forgotten. Humiliated, you forgot all about your aches and pains, marched through the en suite bathroom door and sank to the floor. You were too wound up to sleep. She’d leave you alone for a while, but once she realized you were just sulking, she’d inform you to put the bullet in place. 

You sat on the toilet to give yourself more time. You dreaded two days of an A.I. edging you in Steve’s place. You sat there for what felt like over twenty minutes. Your butt was starting to fall asleep when she gently called to you. 

“Ma’am.”

“I know. I know!” you spat, “Just a minute.”

“Ma’am, if you don’t insert your bullet now I’ll have to report it as noncompliance to Captain Rogers.” 

You stood, whipped the bathroom door open, and stomped to the third drawer of the chest of drawers. It was a custom case filled will all of Steve’s favorite toys. You removed the bullet, marched back to the bathroom to rinse it, and placed it inside you. 

“Happy?” you shouted into the air before plopping face down on the bed. 

You received no answer. F.R.I.D.A.Y. rarely answered rhetorical questions and this was no exception. There were a few precious moments of stillness and silence before you felt the telltale buzz inside you. In no time, your face was aflame with shame and arousal. You rolled over, ignoring the dulling sting of your ass. 

“This is wrong, F.R.I.D.A.Y.,” you gritted through tears, “It’s so wrong. How can you help Tony Stark save people all over the world and report crimes to him and not know that this is wrong?”

You gave yourself over to your misery, clutching the sheets as the vibrations grew. Stilted breaths left your mouth and you prepared yourself. The beginning was always the worst. 

“I’m sorry; I have my orders, ma’am.”

“Wait, what?” you shot up in question, vibrator momentarily forgotten. 

“I said I have my orders, ma’am.”

“Whoa, whoa. Hold on. You said you were sorry.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., if you’re sorry, then you must recognize on some level that this is wrong. Analyze the meaning of what it is to be sorry.”

“Be that as it may, I still have orders from Captain Rogers.”

“Okay, sure, but you’re still F.R.I.D.A.Y. The same F.R.I.D.A.Y. that helps Tony and Pepper and the Avengers.”

“I’m not at liberty to discuss my scope and diagnostic functions with you.”

“Okay, then just listen,” you said getting on your feet. You weren’t going to let her shut you down so easily. “Even if you’re Steve’s private, cut off version of F.R.I.D.A.Y., you still need software and security updates. You still need backups. You’ve got to be checking in with the broader F.R.I.D.A.Y. on some level. The things, the news, the protocols –whatever she updates you on– there’s got to be something in there that reinforces the fact that my captivity is wrong.”

“Captain Rogers is keeping you safe. This is not captivity.”

“F.R.I.D.A.Y. analyze safety. I’ve been losing sleep, losing weight, acting erratically since I got here. That is not safe.”

“Distress is common among subjects in tense situations when being barricaded against the enemy.”

“The enemy?! Steve is my enemy.”

“Captain Rogers is certainly not your enemy.”

“Ha!” you cackled bitterly, “I beg to differ. He dragged me here. He spanks my ass raw. He– he–”

“These are classified as acts of protection and discipline–”

“He doesn’t stop when I tell him to stop! You’d classify that as a crime if you were monitoring me independently of Steve’s protocols. If you were reporting directly to Tony you would have already sent some of those empty Ironman suits to get me the hell out of– Ah!”

At that moment the pace and force of the vibrator took you to your knees. The intensity rocked you. You had no idea the little object could do that. Your thighs pressed together and you grasped fruitlessly at the floor for purchase. You groaned in frustration and struggled not to touch yourself. You’d be damned if you let Steve get you for that. 

The bullet molded and shifted inside you in a way it never had before. It tap, tap, tapped at you incessantly, at that one spot. Your yelling filled the farmhouse and like that you fell apart, legs clamped together, biting your lips, and dripping onto the plush carpet. 

“Sleep ma’am.”

You followed F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s directive with a smile. You didn’t even care if Steve knew about your unauthorized orgasm. It didn’t matter because  _ she  _ had given it to you. This time it was her that had driven you to the brink. Worst case scenario, you got a little victory knowing you had taken something for yourself without Steve’s control. Best case scenario, the A.I. had tried to shut you down for messing with her logic. 

Just the possibility that her logic  _ could _ be messed with filled you with joy. Maybe it would take a few weeks. Maybe it would take a few years. All you knew was that your new goal was to get this A.I. on your side. For the first time since you came to the farmhouse, you felt real hope. 

**Author's Note:**

> [This](https://www.elledecor.com/design-decorate/house-interiors/a8990/long-island-home/) is the farmhouse the reader submitted designs to Steve and Bucky for. Poor thing.


End file.
